


The Thing With Feathers

by nerbert



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2018-2019 Season, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Wings, Emotional Constipation, Kinda, M/M, Pining, Wingfic, tbh assuming nhl players know anything is unrealistic, unrealistic knowledge of birds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 02:09:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16823017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerbert/pseuds/nerbert
Summary: Auston has seen thousands on thousands of wings in his life, but none quite like Freddie Andersen's. Most people have wings in proportion to their body size if not a little bit shorter. If a human's wings were physical appendages there would be no way that anyone could fly. Freddie's are the first wings Auston saw and took a guess that it might just be possible.Alternate Title: A Bird Watcher's Guide To Soulmates





	The Thing With Feathers

The thing about a person's wings is that nobody is meant to see them. They're a spectral representation of a soul and nothing more. Sure, a small fraction of the population is born with the ability to see these wings, but that always felt like cheating to Auston. Even when he stopped seeing himself as a cheat, he knew his gift was nothing more than a party trick. Each person's wings were as unique as a fingerprint, and some people made careers out of 'reading' wings but that never appealed to him. Auston wanted to play in the NHL, so his gift became nothing more than an obscure piece of trivia.

There was no way to benefit with his gift on the ice. Sometimes he can tell by the way a wing twitches when a person is lying (which was fun when it came to poker games) but seeing the invisible wings of his opponents hardly gave him an edge. Back in the days of peewee hockey, sure, he might have been able to tell which way a goalie might go based on the angle of their wing, but goalies grew smarter with age. By juniors they were so mentally locked into each game that not a feather out of place gave away what they were thinking or feeling. Auston was relieved. He didn't like cheating when it came to hockey. He wanted to be the best all on his own.

And then he was drafted first overall by the Toronto Maple Leafs. Then he made it to the big show.

He managed to go all the way through training camp and into a few weeks of the season before they found out about him.

"No way!" Marns said with wide eyes. Mitch seemed to always be in awe of something. It was his right as a rookie to act amazed at every turn. If Auston was honest he'd admit to doing the same thing too. It was corny as hell, but they were living the dream. Every vet on the team told them to enjoy the most of it, advice Mitch took to heart.

Mitch then repeats this new piece of information louder for the rest of the locker room to hear. More than half the team turn to Auston, looking interested.

"Really? That's like super rare, right?" Gards says and Auston watches the brown and grey dappled wings unfurl from behind his back. He wonders if its a subconscious thing for the wings to react to the mention of themselves.

"Yeah." Auston says with a shrug. People always get like this when it comes up, so he just tries to remain cool about it.

"Dude! What do mine look like? I've always wanted to know." Mitch leans in eagerly.

"They're fluffy and white. Kind of like a snowy owl, I think."

"No way," Mitch cranes his head back but sees nothing. "Dude, I'm the fucking owl from Harry Potter. I'm a Hedwig."

"Hedwig dies, bro." Hyman pipes up, because of course he does.

"What ever." Mitch says.

"Nah, Matts is bullshitting you. _Owls_ are supposed to be _wise._ " Marty grins, the blue tinged wings of a kingfisher comfortably tucked behind his shoulders.

The locker room diverts into an eager Q and A, everyone demanding Auston describe their wings to them. It's a little tedious, but Auston is used to these questions by now. Growing up he once got a field guide for bird watchers as a Christmas present from an aunt. It wasn't as cool as his other presents but it had been useful the few times he sat down to skim through the pages. In his most desperate moments of boredom he'd learnt to recognise the shape and colour of a few wings. Auston didn't find it practical having space in his brain dedicated to wings and not hockey _or actual real life stuff_. Still, it was an okay party trick.

There were a lot of wings he didn't recognise. Sometimes a person's wings wouldn't belong to any known bird species. Sometimes, very rarely, they weren't even bird wings at all. Auston once dated a girl who had the most dazzling butterfly wings. She was beautiful and he knew if he got to know her she’d be pretty great but he it didn't last long. Auston wasn’t that upset about it.

If he doesn't recognise the wings, he does his best to describe them. It ends up making the team a little late to leave after practice, but no one seems to mind. They’re all genuinely interested and although Auston's tired, he doesn't want to leave his team mates hanging.

"Aaaaand what about Freddie?" Mitch points across the room where Freddie is finally out of all his goalie gear. He looks up, having been listening to the conversation but not actively participating before now.

Auston breathes through his nose and takes in the sight of Freddie's wings. This wasn't the first time he had taken a moment to take in the sight of Freddie. He knows already that his wings belong to no bird he's ever seen before, in a book or otherwise.

"Uh, big and red."

"Okay now Matts, describe his wings." JVR says, getting a laugh from the room. Auston laughs along and just shrugs to Freddie.

Auston has seen thousands on thousands of wings in his life, but none quite like Freddie Andersen's. Most people have wings in proportion to their body size if not a little bit shorter. If a human's wings were physical appendages there would be no way that anyone could fly. Freddie's are the first wings Auston saw and took a guess that it might just be possible.

They're huge. Easily the length of his body folded up, but when outstretched they're monstrous. Right now where Freddie sits his wings disappear through his stall and into the walls. It's a good thing they're spectral, otherwise it would be a definite hassle, and ultimately impossible to tend goal with. Auston got used to walking through wings only he could see a long time ago, but the first time he passed through Freddie's he almost flinched. Something about the sight of each rust coloured feather the length of his arm felt intimidating. Freddie was quiet, but cool and Auston could tell he was a good guy. It was only that looking at those wings the span of a small bus was intimidating.

"What about yours?" Freddie asks Auston.

"I can't see my own. Apparently that's pretty normal."

"Ah, bummer." Willy consoles, still a little pleased with the description of his own golden yellow wings. Perhaps a canary or finch.

From there, the team seems satisfied that this line of discussion is over and Auston doesn't talk about it more. There's hockey to play, and that's what counts.

There's no real need to bring it up, but Auston can't help himself.

"No doubt JT would sign here." He tells the boys back at Mo's place. They're having a pre-season barbeque while the weather is still decent. John turns to him both curious and confused.

"He's a good Ontario boy. He's got blue jay wings."

"You can see them?" John says, a little embarrassed at the laughter from Auston's joke. He's then quickly filled in on Auston's gift.

He'd seen those wings before when he played against John in the past and had recognised them easily enough. In truth he hadn't put much thought in his new team mate's signing until he saw the photo of a kid in his leaf pyjamas with a small pair of fuzzy blue wings on his back. Auston can admit it was pretty cute. Mitch had to be stopped from changing the group chat name to the Toronto Pyjama Boys, Auston wondered who let him be an administrator in the first place.

The burgers and steaks are just put down on the grill, so Auston decides to head back inside to grab the sides from the fridge. He is being helpful, unlike some people who are still crowding around Mo, shouting out directions and suggestions about how best to cook their dinners.

"That 'Berta beef?" Connor peeks over Mo's shoulder and he snaps Gard's hands away with the tongs.

A call of _"You better believe it's 'Berta beef!"_ follows Auston to the kitchen. He'll pick up the potato salad he bought from a deli nearby and some condiments from the fridge, maybe another beer for himself and hopefully make it back in time for Mo to plate up. Only there's a familiar pair of large auburn wings blocking his path.

Freddie emerges from where he had his head shoved inside the fridge with a handful of grapes.

"They're taking way too long to cook." He explains, feeding himself a partially peeled grape. "They gotta be burnt by now."

Auston hopes not. He prefers a nice medium rare. He empathises with Freddie's impatience. It was a physical and gruelling practice this morning. Auston ate on the way here and still finds himself starving.

"There anything good in there?" Auston reaches to try and look inside the fridge himself, but Freddie's wings are blocking most of his view.

"Not really. Beer, _La Croix,_ " He adds with a note of disdain. "Ooh, is that potato salad?"

"Yeah, that's mine." He manages to nudge Freddie aside to grab the salad in question.

"I'm gonna eat all of it." Freddie smiles. Auston ordered an extra large tub to try and feed everyone, but he doesn't dare doubt Freddie's appetite. He'd let him have it too, but Mo already called dibs and he'd be a poor guest to take it back now.

"You reckon you can get through me?" Auston smiles back, holding the tub above his head like Freddie is a kid and not already taller than him.

"Probably." He says, but throws a grape at Auston instead. It hits him square in the nose, and Auston insists he throw another one. He catches the second in his mouth and cellies hard against the kitchen counter. Freddie laughs, but helps him take the other salads and condiments out of the fridge. He keeps Freddie laughing out of the kitchen with his disbelief that Mo doesn't keep his ketchup in the fridge.

He's almost too busy joking to miss the strange glint of light flicker in the corner of his eye. He turns confused, only to see a small flat object lying on the floor. Careful with the potato salad in one hand and some other thing with quinoa in his other, he kneels down to inspect it. It's a feather.

"Matts?" Freddie says looking behind him when he notices his team mate is further than a step behind.

"What's that?"

"What's what?"

Auston doesn't answer, instead he places the bowls of food on the floor and reaches out to grab it. His first guess is that a bird must have accidentally flown into the house, but he can tell from the size of the feather they would have noticed a bird like that. It's about as the length of his hand span, all angular and asymmetrical. It's a reddish-orange but shines coppery in the light. Later he would probably remember not to touch weird feathers that might belong to mysterious, disease carrying birds, but in this moment curiosity gets the better of him.

As soon as he touches the feather, a wave of static shock travels up through his right hand all the way along his arm to the shoulder. Stars burst in front of his eyes and there is a tingling sensation at the base of his neck. For a moment he feels like he's about to black out, before his vision returns in bright colours, only he doesn't see the feather or Freddie or Mo's house. He's standing in a muddy field he can hear laughter come from somewhere as he finds his legs galumphing through puddles of watery mud. The sky is a clear blue above him, and rain clouds have already passed by. A child next to him kicks a soccer ball.

He turns to see a little girl running behind him and shouts something in a high voice he doesn't recognise. He doesn't understand the garbled words either. The girl giggles and begins to chase him, a spot of mud drying in one of her pigtails.

He blinks and the girl is gone. He's back kneeling on the floor in Mo's hallway a feather in one hand, clutching the back of his head in the other.

"Matts! Auston! Can you hear me?"

"Huh?" He looks up at Freddie.

"The fuck was that?"

"I don't know. I touched the thing and then I was running in mud with this girl-" Auston pauses to acknowledge how crazy he sounds.

"Here," Freddie frowns and reaches for the feather. Auston tries to push away and warn him not to because whatever that feather is _is fucking weird_ , but he's too slow.

Freddie snatches the feather gently and holds it up to the light. He scrutinises it for a moment before he gasps and the feather starts to glow. Auston watches then it utter disbelief as the feather dissipates in Freddie's hand.

"Oh," he says softly. " I see what you mean."

Auston is about to ask what the fuck is going on when Mo peaks his head down the hallway. He watches where Freddie and Auston are still crouched on the floor.

"Burgers are ready. You guys good?" Mo looks a little embarrassed to have walked in on them.

"All good, just dropped something. We'll be out in a sec." Freddie says in his weirdly calm voice, which Auston finds himself annoyed by rather than soothed. It's not _all good_ and Auston wants to know what just happened. Still, he bites his tongue and Mo disappears as soon as he came. They pick back up their armfuls of food and get on their feet.

"What the fuck was that?" The words come out of his mouth in a hurry.

"A memory I guess." Freddie shrugs, jus face deep in thought. Auston needs him to elaborate on that but he just shakes his head.

"Later. Don't leave the boys waiting" He tells Auston.

His first thought _is fuck that_ but Auston admits Freddie has a point. He can’t leave everyone else waiting much longer without raising concern. He's also still hungry, and he's been known to get hangry from time to time. Maybe on a full stomach this feather thing will make sense.

By the time they make it to the table, Freddie and Auston have to fight over the one good steak left. Auston loses and ends up with a sad looking burnt burger patty he covers in cheese and ketchup on a wholemeal bun. After that it's not a half bad meal.

He's done with his burger and shovelling his way through mounds of salad when he gets to thinking again.

He looks down at Freddie at the other end of the table, deep in conversation with Kappy about something and it hits him.

He's an idiot.

Freddie' wings are folded over the back of his chair. Big red wings. The same colour as the feather he found. They even shone like copper in the low outdoor lights. If that was Freddie's feather, then maybe it was Freddie's memory he saw. It had to be.

Auston doesn't say anything to him, he sits on his side of the table and joins the rolling conversations as they pass by. He downs another beer and picks at the leftover cherry tomatoes on his plate. He wonders how old Freddie was in that memory.

When the hour grows late, they all leave Mo a reasonable pile of dishes in the sink and call it a night. He carpooled with Mitch on the way in so he could drink, but considers Ubering back home to save time. Mitch thinks he knows all the quickest short cuts, but Auston isn't convinced. Instead Freddie offers to drive him back and Auston doesn't say no.

"That was your memory." Auston says once he's buckled into the passenger seat.

"Yeah, and my feather," Freddie curls the end of his sentence up in a question, not knowing what his own wings look like.

"Why'd it fall out? How?"

"I thought you would know. Has this happened before?"

"Has it happened _to you_ before?" Auston counters and Freddie twists his mouth into an assumption of the phrase _fair point_.

"It's not bad is it? There isn't a problem with my...soul?"

"I dont know."

"We suck." Freddie sighs slouching into his chair at a red light. He lets out a sad laugh.

"We just have to figure it out. It's probably nothing too bad."

"I don't think we should say anything. Maybe it's nothing, I don't need anyone worrying or taking it the wrong way."

Auston nods. If they tell people and it makes it to the Toronto media they might just be fucked either way.

At home, Auston does some googling on his phone. He starts with _Feathers falling out_ and _Finding loose feathers_ as key terms, but all he gets is a bunch of pet care blogs. He tries to search more on soul wings and he finds one or two forums about people who can see wings. He scans for another ten minutes but can't find any mention of people finding feathers. He gives up, tossing his phone down on his bed.

He means to look into it further. He knows it's important but it's not like he has many nights off to do his own private research. Even if he did, he doesn't know where to start with this. Weeks go by and he hopes this is just a one time freak accident.

The season begins and the incident is pushed even further out of his mind. After they split the first two at home, they head off for a week long road trip. They score more goals than they give up, seven in Chicago and seven in Dallas.

They're on the plane to Detroit, Auston is considering getting in a quick nap before they land. He leans back in his chair, headphones on and puts a chill playlist on shuffle. He can feel himself about to doze when his eyes drift towards a flash of movement in the air. He blinks, rubs his eyes and feels his stomach drop. There, floating towards him is another ginger feather.

He jolts up in his chair, trying to calculate where the it will land. The feather is drifting a couple of feet away in the aisle of the plane. If he's quick, he might be able to snatch it before anyone else notices. He tenses for a minute, then lunges forward. He reaches over the empty seat next to him and grabs the feather with his outstretched hand. The feather feels red hot and like the first time, jolts of energy shoot up his arm. He clenches tight and pulls his hand into his pant pocket. He manages to shove the feather out of sight before the occupants of the seats around him notice the commotion he caused.

"You good?" Zach peaks over from the seat in front of him. His green and red parrot wings outstretched in alarm.

"Yeah." Auston nods, peaking a sideways glances towards Freddie sitting a couple rows ahead on the opposite side of the aisle. Freddie looks back at him, confused. Auston tries to mouth the word _feather_ at him, but he doesn't seem to get it.

 _What?_ Freddie mouths back.

He tries again.

 _FEA-THER._ He can still feel the damn thing tingling away in his pocket. He's met with a blank look. He rolls his eyes and mumbles "Forget it." and sits back down in his seat.

He tries to relax again, but he can't. The feather is still there is his pocket, the quill end digging into his thigh. He reaches back in there to try and adjust it, but when he touches the feather again he can't fight off the surge of energy. It surges back up through his body to the base of his neck. His vision whites out and all he hopes is that he doesn't yelp out aloud.

It's a different memory this time. The first thing he sees is a plush white carpet spread out in front of him and a tall green pine tree decked out in Christmas lights. The curtains are open but the windows are closed, letting in the early morning light but not the snow. He is lying on his belly, cheek against the carpet when someone calls out Freddie's name. He sits up and a large parcel is dropped in his lap. Small hands tear into the shimmering paper and pull out a leather catching glove. Underneath it is a white leather blocker.

He feels Freddie gasp and look up at who can only be his parents. His father ruffles his hair and laughs, pulling out two more large oblong parcels for him. Auston doesn't need to guess what's in those ones. He watches through Freddie's young eyes as his father helps him strap the newly unwrapped pads over his pyjama pants. He takes a few stiff steps before his brother kicks the pad teasingly. Then his sister throws a ball of wrapping paper at him that he catches in the glove.

He can feel Freddie buzzing with excitement as he stumbles around in his gear. Auston smiles, the memory feels familiar. He remembers his own Christmases back home getting new sticks and gear. It seems so simple back then, but there was that love of hockey that still carries him here today.

He blinks back the fuzziness in front of his eyes and returns back to his seat on the plane. Well, at least this was another happy memory.

He isn't able to grab Freddie alone before they reach the hotel. It's fine, the feather in Auston's pocket isn't as noticeable now that he touched it. He waits until he's checked into his own room to go find Freddie.

He knocks on the door down the hall and Freddie answers, already out of his suit and dressed in a team hoodie. He hopes he hadn't interrupted anything Freddie is doing.

"Hey, what's up?" Freddie opens up the door to let Auston in. He pulls out the feather and shows it to him."Again?"

"Found it on the plane."

"Oh."

Freddie takes the feather gingerly in his hand. Again, at his touch the feather glows and disappears. Auston watches a little smile tug at the corner of his face for a moment as the memory washes over him.

"How old were you?"

"Maybe ten." Freddie smiles and sits back on his bed. "Hey, you don't think, am I missing feathers to you? Do my wings look different?"

"They seem okay from here but I could take a look?" He offers and Freddie beckons him over. Auston positions himself behind Freddie and leans in to get a good look at his wings. He starts at the shoulder blade where the wings sprout out from, a small line of feathers run up from the blade to the base of the neck. It looks alright from here, but Freddie's wings are still folded up so he can't see all that he needs to.

After a tense second kneeling behind Freddie on the bed, Freddie offers to take off his hoodie so Auston can see better. Before Auston can weigh up the merits of that idea, Freddie is already doing it. Auston panics for a second at the sight of Freddie on the bed essentially stripping, but he’s got a shirt on underneath. Auston is just being weird. He needs to just get this overwith.

"Hey can you um, stretch them out for me?"

"How?" Freddie twists his head back to look at Auston. Right, because his wings weren't in his voluntary control.

"Relax." He suggests.

"I am relaxed." His wings still folded up neatly behind his back.

Auston thinks for a moment and remembers when Freddie's in net. Almost always, he'll have his wings outstretched, like a part of them will block the pucks too.

"Think about stopping a shot."

The effect is almost immediate as Freddie drops his shoulders and visualises a puck coming towards him. His wings swoop outwards reaching out the wall on both sides of the bed. They flap gently, staying outstretched.

"There." Auston says satisfied with himself.

"Really?"

"Yeah, whenever you're in net your wings are flapping about."

It was funny like that. Some goalies would have their wings tucked in tightly, some of them would have their wings out, subconsciously making themselves bigger in the crease. None of them look as big as Freddie. Now that Auston was close enough to get a good look he guessed the wings spanned somewhere around fifteen feet. He made his way across the wing span, looking for any sign of missing feathers. At the tips of the wings, the feathers were longer and more separate. They almost looked like strange fingers. Whatever bird it was Auston imagined these long, thin wings were meant for soaring across long stretches of sky with a few flaps at a time.

When he hops off the bed to reach the end of the wing by the hotel room wall, Freddie gives him an incredulous look.

"I told you man, you've got big wings."

"Not sure I believe that."

"Out of everything about this _that's_ what you don't believe?" Maybe if Auston can figure out what wings they are it will make more sense for Freddie.

Freddie flops back on the bed, wings still outstretched so they dangle off the edge. Auston feels like that's a cue he should go, but he doesn't want to go back to his room alone yet. So lies back on the bed too and stares up at the ceiling.

"I'm sorry that this is happening." Auston wonders if this will be a thing now. Every few weeks he'll find a feather and relive a part of Freddie's life. How long that could go on for?

"It's okay. It's weird, I hope you don't mind my memories."

"You were a cute kid." Freddie snorts and Auston wonders if he went for the right answer there. "You seem really happy in them."

"Yeah, I was."

Auston hopes they keep being happy memories. He doesn't want to bring back ones that will make Freddie sad.

"Your wings look fine by the way. Nothing bad I could see."

"You're a good friend, Auston." Freddie looks upside down at him from the other side of the bed. Auston's not too sure of that. He feels he could be better, but he likes hanging out with Freddie. He likes how calm and cool and funny he is. There are friends he loves, but couldn't be around every day. Freddie is easy to be around. He likes that. He wants to be like that too.

"You too, Freds." Auston says as he sits up. He feels weird intruding on Freddie for so long like this. He probably wants to sleep now, not deal with him. "Sleep well, yeah?"

"Night," Freddie says, still lying down as Auston sees himself out.

His inspection of Freddie's wings gives him an idea. He pulls out his phone and starts googling: _Largest Flying Birds_

They win in Detroit, Auston remembers sitting on the bench during a time out late in the third watching Larkin skate past with his white curved wings outstretched. He thinks they're probably a dove's. He takes a glance over towards Freddie by the bench door talking with Sparks. He smiles when he catches Auston staring. Auston looks away quickly feeling his cheeks warm. It's not like he stares at Freddie often, sometimes he just happens to be in Auston's line of vision. He's a big dude, he's hard to miss. Freddie probably gets stared at a lot. Auston hopes he isn't making it weird.

Then they're in Washington for the last game of their road trip. They're tired, but it's a chance to go up against the defending cup champs, so Auston is amped. He's feeling good in the team practice that morning, working on drills from behind the net. Only Freddie has his wings out, and it's making it a little bit more difficult to see.

He decides to skate through them an to the goal line to make the pass to Patty, but as the puck leaves his stick, something smacks him in the face. It's not hard, but its sudden enough for Auston to reel backwards and grab at the side of his face. His first thought is that it must be a stick or a puck, but it feels sharper, and its still stuck underneath his visor.

He hears a whistle blow as he hunches over and the sound of skates gliding towards him. Against his cheek he feels a familiar tingling sensation and swears under his breath. He tries to fend it off, but the feather is stuck right against his skin. The buzzing radiates through his eye socket until his vision whites out and the memory takes him whole.

He's standing in the goal crease in a different arena. The lights shine down on the ice painfully bright, except that the edge of Freddie’s mask is pulled up and resting on top, shading his eyes. The crowd behind the glass is cheering as the final buzzer still sounds. Men in dark orange uniforms are skating towards him, but Auston's eyes turn skyward. Giddy joy washes over him. Up on the screen reads the final score: 6-3 Anaheim.

"You alright Matts?" Babcock skates in close and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Fine. My visor." His voice is muffled behind his glove. He needs to get to the bench as soon as possible before anyone can see. Behind him he hears someone ask what happened.

He manages to get himself to the bench where an equipment manager is waiting. He tries to talk him off, but his hand gets pushed away. Babcock leans over and frowns at him.

"What the hell is that?" He tugs at the feather wedged in his visor before Auston can protest. It comes loose and Babcock holds it up in front of his face.

"Oh shit." He hears Freddie say behind him. Babcock turns to where Freddie has been hovering behind Auston. "Don't worry that's mine."

"It's what?" Babcock looks back at Auston, but he's hunched over the boards hiding his face. He's decided that Freddie can have the honour of explaining this one. The rest of the team is also gathered around them now, curiosity and concern (and nosiness) getting the better of them.

"So, we know Aus can see wings, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, uh, he found out that my feathers fall out sometimes and when he touches them he gets my random memories."

Auston resents how easily Freddie is able to sum it up in that soft voice of his. Maybe it's the tone, he could say anything at all and it would make complete sense.

"How long has this been going on?"

"A month, maybe."

"Why's this happening?"

"We don't know." Auston finally says, unclipping his helmet and inspecting his visor. He ignores the looks of concern his teammates throw his way.

Babcock passes the feather to Freddie and everyone watches in amazement as the feather disappears in his hand. Auston is relieved it was a closed practice today.

"Oh, so that's why you guys were acting so weird." Gards laughs. "We thought-"

He is then cut off by Morgan jabbing him with an elbow.

"Thought what?" Asks Freddie.

"Nothing," Morgan glares at Gards, who looks confused. "Are you okay, Freddie?"

"Yeah." It's a pretty obvious deflection, but he goes with it. "It's weird but I don't think anything's wrong."

Auston isn't so sure on that last point, but he doesn't say anything.

"Good. Let's get back at it." Babcock taps his stick on the ice and the impromptu huddle is over.

They win in Washington and then they're back home to play the Kings. In the few days off between the games it becomes clear Freddie's nagging knee trouble will need a little more time. It's not long term, but Auston can tell Freddie isn't at 100%. He's working a lot with the physical therapist but they come to the conclusion he won't be in against the Kings.

The Sunday night before they play Auston is at home after a practice without Freddie. He'd been texting Mitch about having a video game night some time soon which gets him texting the rest of the guys about what dates work. Freddie texts him expressing some interest, which leads Auston into asking how his knee is.

 _Ok, just frustrating._ Freddie replies. _How's everyone?_

_Good. Practice was good. Way harder now that sieve wasn't in net._

_I gotta let you have a couple easy ones or you whine too much._

_Whatever you tell yourself buddy._

And sure, Auston could leave it there, but he knows how much it sucks being out injured. Even when it's minor, he doesn't want Freddie to feel left out from the team.

_U doing much tonight?_

_Just resting. Y?_

_idk kinda hungry. no food in the fridge_

_Ur not stealing my food._

_:(_

_Fine. You want to go out?_

_nah you need rest i'll bring u something_

_I'm not letting u in unless it's thai._

👌👌👌👌👌

Auston shows up at Freddie’s apartment half an hour later with take out boxes of Pad Thai. Freddie inspects the boxes for a moment before allowing Auston inside. They eat on the couch between rounds of NHL19. After the second game Freddie wins, he throws his controller down in disgust.

“Stop taking it easy on me.” He tells Auston.

Auston goes to open his mouth to argue, but he can’t deny that he was doing that. Freddie was sitting up with his knee on ice and maybe he felt a little bad for him. Instead he tells Freddie: “You need all the help you can get.”

“I don’t want your pity, Matts.” Freddie says jokingly, but Auston takes it to heart.

“If you insist.” He sighs and beats Freddie 6-2.

When they tire of playing and run out of Pad Thai, they flick through TV channels until Auston stops on a movie channel. He can’t believe Freddie has never seen The Waterboy and insists they watch it now.

“What is with you and Adam Sandler movies?”

“He’s funny.” Auston gets defensive.

“Okay, yeah, Happy Gilmore is pretty good.” Freddie gives him a sideways smile.

“Exactly.”

“Bruins jersey, though.”

“I never said it was perfect.”

They giggle together, two grown ass men huddled together under a throw blanket on the couch. It’s cool inside the apartment, but Freddie is warm. Auston eyes drift from the TV to where Freddie’s leg is resting up on an ottoman, stretched next to Auston’s. He’s been careful the whole night not to bump his knee, even though he knows Freddie wouldn’t complain if he did. He’s too nice like that.

The icepack on his knee is just about melted through, so Auston gets up for another one before Freddie can protest. He makes a big deal of doting on Freddie, who visibly hates Auston treating him like he’s on death’s door. He can see the cogs turning behind his eyes, remembering this moment for when Auston is sick or injured next, when he’ll get what’s coming to him. Either way, he still thanks him when the fresh ice pack is wrapped tightly in place and the blankets are back over them.

Auston lies back on the couch, wondering how late he can push it before Freddie kicks him out. They do have a game tomorrow. Well, he does anyway. Either way, Auston doesn’t want to leave yet. He doesn’t want to leave Freddie alone to return to his own solitary residence.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what your wings are.” The words tumble out of his mouth unexpectedly. “Like, googling and stuff.”

Freddie listens to him in silence. He leans in just slightly, which Auston appreciates. He likes holding all of Freddie’s attention. The TV is left on unnoticed.

“I have no fucking clue, dude.” It’s the truthful answer. Auston has looked at the lot of birds. The shape and size seems to match a vulture. There’s those huge Californian Condors, that seemed like a decent guess but Auston didn’t feel satisfied. Those things are ugly, with their bald heads and beady eyes and not very Freddie at all. There were other species much bigger than that, long extinct with truly obscene proportions. That became the only feasible option, but a pointless one. They were known from a few bones, and there wasn’t much to go on visually. Either way, Auston couldn’t find the proof of a huge, red winged bird out there in the world.

“Maybe they haven’t discovered them yet. Like, maybe there’s some big ass bird hiding up in the mountains. The Himalayas or whatever. They’re solitary, they scare everything else away. The only have one mate for life and they’d build these huge nests together with sticks and bones and shit.”

“I think you need some sleep.” Freddie laughs.

“Yeah.” Auston laughs, realising just how insane he sounds coming up with his own David Attenborough documentary for him.

Freddie leads him (a little stiff in one leg) to the door. Before Auston leaves, Freddie pulls him into a hug.

“Thanks, man.” Auston’s face is gently squeezed against the side of Freddie’s solid neck. Auston squeezes back.

“Anytime.” He says, meaning it. “Be better soon, okay?”

“I will. Next game.” He promises.

They beat the Kings and then as promised, Freddie slots in the lineup Thursday night. They lose and the Penguins shut them out. Auston watches angrily as the dark angular wings of Crosby and Malkin skate up to Murray after the final buzzer and wishes he was cheering on his own goalie instead. He's mad because Freddie played amazing, his best game of the season, and they still lost.

Babcock is pissed, Zach is quietly fuming and Auston stays quiet. He gets through his post game routine and media scrum tensely, and internally chastises himself for being so grumpy. He's not a rookie anymore, he's used to losing games. He thought he was more mature than this but he really does want to go home and scream into a pillow, just a little bit.

He makes sure to catch Freddie before he leaves and tells him "You played great."

Freddie shrugs.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get you the win."

"It's fine." Freddie smiles. "We'll get it next game."

Auston wants to argue that he should have done more, but Freddie gives him a stern look to shut him up. Now that that's over, Auston is still hovering next to the goalie unsure what to say.

"How's the knee?"

"Feels good." He looks at Auston wistfully, trying to read what's on his mind. "No more feathers?"

"Nope."

"Still think you could do with seeing a good memory." Freddie says decidedly.

"Huh?"

"We're going for sushi."

Auston should say no. He's tired and feeling shitty, and they'll probably get bag skated tomorrow, but he agrees conditionally: He's shouting them both and they're getting it delivered. He doesn't want to go out in Toronto after that loss and he doesn’t feel like Freddie deserves to pay for this one. They drive to Auston's and order plates of sashimi. If there's one thing they can both agree on it's a passion for seafood.

He surprised by how much this pick me up works. There's no screaming into pillows, no pent up energy or overwhelming soreness. He eats a plate of sashimi and steals a few sips of Freddie's green tea. They don't talk about hockey and it's surprisingly easy not to do so. Freddie talks about good seafood restaurants in Denmark and it kind of makes Auston want to visit. He hopes they have a long post season and a short summer, but if there was time he'd seriously consider it. If Freddie would want him there.

It's late when Freddie goes back home, late enough that all Auston does is throw his clothes over a chair and stumble into bed. He sleeps deeply, almost missing his alarm the next morning. He's sitting at his breakfast bar drinking his morning coffee when he spots a feather by the door. He must have missed it last night.

He doesn't think much of it as he sets his breakfast down to go pick it up. He'll see Freddie this morning and return it then. He only hesitates for a moment, fingers hovering over the end of the quill before he picks it up between his thumb and finger. The familiar jolt of energy runs up his arm, this time he doesn't resist.

When the pulses of white light fade, he finds himself sitting on a couch in a dark room. There's no windows, only a small tv glowing by the wall he's facing. Auston wonders if this a basement. He can tell from the length of the legs stretched out on an ottoman in front of him that Freddie mustn’t be a kid in this memory.

There's movement beside him. He turns to see a lanky boy sprawled out next to him. It's hard to tell in the darkness, but he looks to be in his late teens. His head is tilted in Freddie's direction, looking up at him with bright blue eyes.

He (or rather Freddie) says something that makes him laugh and tilt sideways until his head butts against his shoulder. His arm lifts around the other guy and rests against his back. His hand bumps into his and the breath escapes his lungs. Auston feels his body freeze, a bubble of anxiety rises in his stomach. The hand bumps back, fingers curling together and squeezing tight. There’s a phantom feeling of something soft against his lips and the last thing Auston remembers is a blazing warmth flooding through him before he blinks back into himself, dropping the feather.

Auston stands stunned for a moment, staring down as the feather floats back down to the floor. There's an uncomfortable itch all over his skin. He knows immediately what he saw wasn't meant for others to see. Guilt and shame thud in his chest. It's not embarrassment, but it's something close. It feels like an intrusion.

Freddie is a private person, Auston has always known and respected that. He's a good friend, but he's by no means an over-sharer. That never bothered Auston, who liked his own privacy too. Now it feels like he violated that. He doesn't know what Freddie will think.

He wraps the feather in a dish towel and puts it in his bag. He leaves the rest of his breakfast on the bench and tips his coffee down the sink.

He drives to the practice rink, but his mind is all over the place. He takes three wrong turns, each time listing off a row of expletives.

There's something familiar about the latest memory that Auston is trying to forget. The same feeling from when he was sixteen and kissing teammates in dingy hotel rooms on road trips or the nights when he was a little too drunk at house parties, watching his friends stumble around each other dreamlike and feeling his own face flush. It feels like all the thoughts Auston has shoved into a mental box for later, when he doesn't have hockey to worry about.

As he walks into the rink, he tries to push those thoughts out of his head altogether. Right now, hockey comes first. He changes into his practice gear across the room from Freddie who is calm and oblivious to Auston's tense mood.

As expected, their practice is long and gruelling. By the end his legs and back are aching and he almost considers just lying down on the ice. He manages to make it to the locker room and showers quickly, already mentally preparing a much longer shower back home. He moves past Freddie in a towel afterwards and feels himself blush. He turns away before anyone can see. He’s acting like a fucking moron.

Auston considers leaving as soon as practice is over. He doesn't know how he's meant to talk to Freddie. He knows it will only get worse, and he knows that in the end there's no avoiding it. Freddie needs his feather back, embarrassment aside. So he swallows his pride and talks to him after he's changed. Freddie nods when he requests they find somewhere alone and follows Auston away from the rest of the locker room.

"Another feather?" Freddie asks.

"Yeah."

"I don't think the guys would mind." It’s true, they know about Freddie’s feathers’ now and it wouldn’t bother them. But it bothers Auston.

Auston looks down, hands shoved deep into his pockets. "This one is different."

"Okay." Freddie says slowly.

"I- I don't, It’s-"

"Auston, you okay?"

"I'm sorry." He mumbles and pulls out the feather. Freddie regards the long feather still half-tucked inside a dish towel. He pulls it out and the feather glows for a moment before disappearing.

"Oh."

Auston doesn't speak.

"Look, that was uh, a while ago. It's not-"

"I shouldn't have touched it." Auston interrupts still not looking at his face. This had been a worry for him since the beginning, that he'd come across something and it would turn everything sour. "I'm sorry, that was private and it's not okay for me to do this to you."

"It's not your fault."

"Still."

"Still what?"

"We can't keep letting this happen. If we don't know why this is happening we need to stop."

"Stop what?"

"What if I'm the one causing this? What if I'm doing something to you? I'm not going to let your feathers keep falling out."

"So what do we do?"

"I think we need space."

"What? We just stop hanging out?" Freddie's voice deepens and Auston finally looks at him. His mouth is pulled tight, eyes boring into Auston's intensely. His brow is furrowed in a deep line.

"What else can we do?"

"We're on the same team."

"I know!" His throat constricts as he shouts. He takes a breath and says more quietly "We're still a team, but I think we need to do what's best until we figure this out. I don't want to keep barging into your head like this."

"Fine." Freddie is calm. "If that's what makes you happy."

He gives Auston a terse smile and walks out the door. Auston ignores the sinking feeling in his stomach and insists that this was the right move. Freddie will understand.

Whatever understanding they reached, Auston realises too late is a cold one. There’s no on ice banter between them. They still speak, but it’s strictly professional. Auston doesn’t realise at first, but Freddie has been uninviting himself to team hangouts that Auston goes to. There’s a rising wave of guilt that pulls through Auston. He knows he fucked up and that Freddie isn’t alright, but no more feathers fall. He dubiously considers that worth it.

Auston still insists it wasn’t a fight. What he did is for the best for Freddie. Auston needs to stop putting his nose in Freddie’s business. He needs to stop being a burden.

The team loses against St Louis but evens out a win over Winnipeg. It’s not like they completely fall apart through this rift. Then his shoulder is banged up against the Jets on the second half of the home and home, and he’ll be out for weeks. It’s hard not to get angry and it’s harder still not to get down on himself. He loves and trusts his team but with Willie still unsigned he worries he’s letting them down. Auston hates even thinking about watching from the press box and being useless.

When he’s around the boys he puts on a good face. He goes to the doctor each couple of days without complaint and everyone reminds him he’s very lucky he won’t need surgery. Yes, maybe he is lucky, but his shoulder still fucking hurts. He doesn’t say anything, but every now and then someone sees him wincing and asks if he’s okay. He’s fine.

When he’s with the boys in the locker room, he catches Freddie looking his way with an unreadable expression. Auston doesn’t look his way. He thinks about Babs insistence he still be with the team and not isolate himself. It would be way easier if he didn’t feel like shit when ever Freddie was near.

Still, Mitch takes pity on him and keeps him company from time to time. Somehow he’s still the Auston’s go-to chauffer and it’s nice when he offers to take Auston out, even if it’s just over to Patty’s place for dinner.

They don’t talk hockey too much until they wind up on how Auston will miss the Cali road trip, which he had sorely been looking forward to. Mitch promises to bring him back a souvenir and wonders if they’ll be able to go to Disneyland.

“You think Freddie can show us around there?” He wonders, calling on Freddie’s time spent in Anaheim. The thought of their goalie in those dumb Micky Mouse ears (and the mess of curls poking out from under it) pops into his head. For a split second it almost makes him laugh, but instead it just makes him a little sad. He kind of wants to see how Disney tour-guide Freddie would play out.

Patty picks up on whatever it is Auston is feeling with a single glance in his direction. He doesn’t bring it up, instead choosing to change the subject. “We’ll send you a postcard.”

“Yeah, it’ll get back here by Christmas.” Auston gives his best PR smile. Again, Patty doesn’t comment on it and let’s him be. He probably thinks Auston’s just sulking over his injury or so he hopes. He thinks he’s allowed a little bit of a sulk either way. He gives himself another few seconds before he pushes it all away.

Back at home after dinner, long after Mitch had dropped him back Auston stays awake. It’s not like he has a game to rest up for. Instead he lies awake in bed and wonders if he should text Freddie.

He thinks about that last memory, Freddie with that guy in his basement and drafts a text that only reads: _Me too._ He wonders if that was a teammate, or an old friend, or someone he knew from high school. He wonders if it was someone who meant something to Freddie. The guys Auston had kissed in the past were all paradoxes, he knew them well but kept them at a perfect distance. They were old friends and teammates that meant nothing at all. It had all been harmless fun up to the point where it wasn’t, and from there it stopped altogether. Auston had always wanted it like that.

Maybe Freddie wanted something different. Maybe Freddie had let them get closer. Maybe Freddie had held their hands and met his parents like it was nothing out of the ordinary. Auston had happily done all that with girls but he’d never wanted to with boys. Perhaps he just hadn’t been curious about all that before now.

How could Freddie just let his mind wonder like this? Did Freddie smile differently with those he held close? Did the curve of his lower lip stretch out? Did his cheeks turn pink? Did eyes still blaze with that unshakable intensity? Did his voice drop when he leaned in close? Did his wings curve around them like an invisible shield? Did his hand burn in the small of their back?

All of these were terrible questions that kept Auston wondering. His texts to Freddie were left unsent, which Auston knew was for the best. No more feathers, his plan is still working. 

He doesn’t realise how far things have gone when Babs sits him down and tells him he’ll be coming on the Cali road trip. Not to play, he quickly assures, but to spend time with the team and not lock himself up alone in Toronto. It’s not a terrible idea, but it means seeing Freddie. So he bites the bullet.

Auston decides it isn’t cowardly to call Freddie. It would be way more cowardly to text.

“Hey.” Freddie answers, he’s terse but he still picked up the phone, so Auston counts that as a small win.

“Hi.” He swallows, mouth suddenly dry. “Can we talk?”

“Sure.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

“No really, I am.” Auston is thrown off tilt by Freddie’s unheated response. “I was a jackass.”

“Yeah, you kinda were.”

“I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I was being stupid. I want to be friends with you no matter what, okay? Even if I don’t deserve you.”

“You do don’t not deserve me.” Freddie struggles. “Fuck, whatever. You’re a good guy even when you’re stupid. I’m not perfect either. Maybe I should have told you guys before now. I’m sorry I’ve been so guarded.”

“You’re not.” _At least I hope not with me_ Auston adds in his head. Auston sucks in a breath and feels the next sentence die in the back of his throat. Freddie says nothing at the other end. His heart beats faster as he reminds himself that this is the time. He needs to be honest with him. _Honest about what?_

“So we’re good?” He’s choking and he wonders if Freddie can hear it. If he could see Auston right now, straining against his own words he’d be disappointed. He’d pity him. Auston doesn’t want that.

“Yeah, we’re good.” he says.

“Good.”

Auston is relieved and ignores the needling voice in his head that reminds him of all the things he left unsaid. He and Freddie are friends again, and that’s what he wants. That’s all he wants.

The next time he sees Freddie, he worries if it will be weird, but Freddie smiles in a way that should put Auston at ease. It doesn’t. He plays along for Freddie and the team’s sake but Auston still isn’t satisfied. He waits for more feathers to fall, but none do. Perhaps it’s over now. It’s a loss Auston wasn’t expecting. In those memories he caught a glimpse into Freddie’s happiness. He still wants to know what makes Freddie happy. 

When he was little, running and jumping in puddles made him happy. Hockey and family made him happy, but surely it can’t end there. There’s more and Auston worries if he’ll ever know. _It’s not your business,_ he tells himself, _leave him alone._

So Auston walks the knife’s edge of being Freddie’s friend and not getting close. He watches Mo give him dirty looks and feels other guys pick up change in atmosphere between them, but Auston ignores it. Freddie looks happy with this brokered peace and that’s what counts. Mo needs to mind his own business for once, or so Auston wishes.

“What’s going on between you two?” Mo says, finally cutting through Auston’s bullshit. He doesn’t have to ask who Mo is referring to.

“It’s stupid.”

“Yeah it’s stupid! You two are friends! What happened?”

“One of the feathers. I saw a memory I shouldn’t have. Freddie was with a guy.”

“With like, with? Oh.” Mo sighs. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know there isn’t. But you know Freddie. I didn’t think he’d want me knowing. I invaded his privacy.”

“Was he upset when he found out?”

“Not really, but I told him we should stop hanging out until we figure this out.” And yeah, now that Auston says it like that he knows he’s a jackass. He finds out his friend isn’t straight and immediately doesn’t want to hang out with him. Mo puts his head in his hands.

“You realise what that looks like, right?”

“Yes.” Auston bites his lip. “But it’s not like that, I would never, I’m-”

“Have you told him that?”

“No.

“Why?”

Auston feels his resolve slipping. “Because it’s scary.”

He’s grateful in this moment for Mo’s perceptiveness, because he doesn’t need Auston to elaborate. Because he couldn’t apologise earnestly to Freddie without admitting to himself how he feels.

“Oh Matts,” He says simply. “You don’t have to worry about that.You two have always been close, yeah? Nothing is going to change. The team has Freddie’s back, and we have yours too.”

“Thanks.” Auston is fighting his instincts to shut down. He’s been holding this in too long, he can’t afford to clam up now. “It’s hard.”

“I gotta be honest here. We didn’t help you guys like we should have. Before we knew about the feather thing I kinda thought...I don’t know. You guys just seemed super close. I didn’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Auston means that. The idea of any kind of special talk from Mo or the rest of the team makes him cringe a little even if that’s exactly what he’s having now. Mo’s white and grey wings droop a little as he considers what to say next.

“Okay. Well, as long as you know all that.”

It’s a good chat. It’s nice words but Auston doesn’t want to get emotional. He knows he’s allowed to be a bit of a mess in this moment, he knows Mo will understand but he doesn’t want that. He wants Mo’s advice instead.

“How do I make it up to him?”

Mo thinks for a moment.

“I could just say that you and Freddie are good friends and you’ll work it out. I could stop there, but I don’t think you realise. I didn’t know that stuff about Freddie, he never mentioned it -which is fine- but I always wondered if he was just naturally a little guarded, you know? And then you came along and I saw this change in him, he opened up more and really connected with the guys and he seems a lot happier. I don’t think you see what your friendship means to him. If it was anyone else on the team who was seeing his most precious memories, I don’t think he’s be so chill about it.”

Auston refrains for asking _why me?_ Instead he leans against Mo and rubs at his eyes. It fills him with a relief he didn’t realise he was searching for when Mo doesn’t flinch away. They’re still the same.

“I don’t know.” He feels that well of uncertainty fill up inside him. There’s a pang of anxiety and he grapples with Mo’s question. He’s always been someone so sure of himself, he doesn’t know what to do with all this doubt. “I want Freddie to be happy. I don’t want to be a bad friend. I don’t want to ruin this.”

“You won’t, wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Cause you're Auston Fucking Matthews.”

It’s a great pep talk and sends Auston into a much better headspace when they fly out of Toronto. He even talks to Freddie on the plane.

“No more feathers huh?” Freddie asks.

“Not that I’ve seen.” Auston confirms.

“Shame.” He doesn’t elaborate further and Auston doesn’t ask. He does catch Auston wincing when his shoulder twinges from sitting down too long. His usual seat on the plane means he’d be leaning on his sore side to sleep, so it’s hard to find a good resting position. Freddie doesn’t say anything, he only frowns in deep thought. Auston wonders what he’s thinking, but doesn’t ask. He takes another pain killer when enough time has passed and doesn’t think about Freddie.

He reaches his breaking point after they win in San Jose. He’s in his suit and Freddie is still a sweaty mess in his gear, but he pulls the goalie in for a post win hug. His face kind of absorbs into Freddie’s chest protector for a moment and it smells disgusting, but he doesn’t mind that much. It’s a perfectly fine hug. Perfectly bro-y. When Freddie pulls away, there’s an immediate sense of loss Auston doesn’t quite understand. Frustration hits him like a jab to the gut as he turns away from Freddie for a moment.

He goes through his phone that night back at the hotel. He scrolls through the forty-something tabs he has open on safari until he finds one of those online wing forums from a few months back. He’d been searching for anyone who had found other people’s feathers before, but found no mention of it anywhere, but this time he has an idea. 

He signs up using his private email address and gives himself a random inconspicuous username. He knows he’s being paranoid, but those seminars of safe social media practices really got to him. He opens up a new thread and begins to type.

_I’ve seen wings all my life, but recently I’ve had a problem with a good friend of mine. When we hang out I notice that sometimes his feathers will fall out. If I touch them a see a memory of his. It’s weird but we couldn’t tell if it was a problem and I couldn’t find anything on this happening before so we just kinda went with it. But he’s a private guy and one of his memories I saw was pretty personal. It’s been weird between us since then. He means a lot to me and I just want to make this okay. What do I do?_

He hits send and doesn’t look at his phone the rest of the night. By the morning he’s chosen to forget the stupid forum, he won’t get an answer anyway. He watches Sparks keep the Ducks to one goal and Auston is biting his nails all the way through to overtime when Mo gives them the game winner. They sweep the road trip for the first time in twenty years with Auston sitting up in the press box. He’s excited for them, but he can’t help the jealousy that grips his spine.

That night in a bar Freddie picked out for them, the rest of the team is kind enough not to exclude him from the festivities. They listen to how his recovery is progressing and tell him words of encouragement. It’s too nice for him to deal with and a part of him wishes he was back in Toronto. He’s only a little jealous, but he puts on a good face for the boys and buys them all a round of drinks.

“This is killing you.” Freddie appears out of nowhere at some point when Auston has a moment to himself.

“Yeah, well,” Auston replies eloquently, taken off guard by the goalie’s sudden appearance. He pauses and waits for a spiel about how important it is to be patient like every other older guy has told him, but Freddie doesn’t say anything of the sort. The silence only makes Auston doubt himself.

“I’m not jealous. You guys are playing amazing.” Auston hopes he comes across as positive and not achingly bitter.

“We still need you, Matts.”

_Do you need me, Freddie?_

The question comes out of nowhere, and dances sourly on his tongue. The three beers he’s drunk are daring him to ask it, but he likes to think he’s not that stupid. He’s too chicken-shit to hear the answer anyway.

He doesn’t drink anymore that night and heads back to his room earlier than he has in a long time. Freddie stays out with a couple of the single guys and Auston wonders if he’ll get lucky. He racks him brain for a memory of Freddie hooking up on the road before but draws a blank. If he had, he’d been extremely careful about it. Auston figures he must have, because that level of stealth combined with his own team’s obliviousness is Freddie to a tee. Auston considers this mental exercise harmless curiosity and definitely not jealousy. He has nothing to be jealous of.

A regretful effect of his early night is waking up well before his scheduled alarm. Usually Auston can sleep anywhere and at anytime, but for once sleep avaids him. He could easily get up and use the gym, but he’s not cleared for heavy exercise which leaves him with two choices: jerking off or scrolling through his phone for a couple of hours. Auston has never considered himself one to be limited to only one option.

He eventually gets up to shower and make his way down to team breakfast. He rides down the elevator alone and takes the time to check his email. He isn’t expecting a noreply address informing him someone has replied to his post. He taps on the reply link before nerves start buzzing around his stomach like a kicked wasp nest. The webpage takes a second to load, another second that he realises how stupid he was for making that post to begin with. He considers just closing the site and deleting the email, but he’s a bit of a masochist. He needs to know what that reply was, even if it makes him feel just as stupid as it should.

An inconspicuous user named _Darkwings85_ has left him a long paragraph in response. The elevator doors spring open before he can read it. He slinks into the hotel foyer and hides himself at the end of the hallway to their reserved room. No one is down for breakfast yet, likely still a little hungover, but Auston doesn’t take any chances. He leans up against the corner with his phone tucked out of sight and begins to read.

_Darkwings85:_

_Well, I can’t say I’ve heard of that happening before but if I’ve learnt anything from seeing wings all my life it’s to expect the unexpected! If you look around, you’ll find a lot of strange stories. There’s a whole subforum for people who have gone their whole lives never seeing wings only to find one person’s they can see. I myself have always seen wings and never thought much of it, until one day a pair of wings smacked my across the face! I’d never heard of being able to touch anyone’s wings before, but I went along with it and now I’m married to her. Those wings are our souls. It can be hard to tell, but I like to think sometimes our souls push us in the right direction anyway they can. It lead me to my soulmate with a not so subtle smack in the face._

_This friend of yours clearly means a lot to you and I think you’re overthinking this. Your wings know what they’re doing, let whatever happens happen. Whatever these feather-memories are telling you, you’ll know when you’re meant to know._

Auston locks his phone and thuds his head against the plaster wall behind him. Beyond the blood rushing through his ears he can hear voices carrying down the hallway. He snaps himself out of his flurried storm of half-thoughts as his team mates near. It’s just Kappy and Andreas, but he shoves his phone into his pocket and tries to act cool. In his mind he’s rereading that message.

_It lead me to my soulmate._

There’s always been rumours of stories like that and hollywood has a booming business selling soulmate stories to the masses. Auston has never considered their legitimacy before.

He downs a cup of coffee in one go but can’t stomach the omelet and bacon he’d piled onto his plate. His soul, or Freddie’s, is trying to tell him something only he has no idea what. Asking Freddie is a non-starter, not after Auston pushing him away like that. He’s being friendly with him again and Auston isn’t about to jeopardise that with intrusive questions. Freddie is his friend, but he still needs space. Auston needs to respect that space.

The team slowly fills the room, Mitch arrives with Freddie some time after Auston ditches his plate for a smoothie. He watches from the far side of the table as Freddie chuckles quietly at whatever Mitch is telling him. He looks tired, tucking his chin into the front of his sweater and letting his eyes droop for a moment. Mitch keeps nudging him and each time Freddie’s wing subconsciously flap upwards. Auston watches the wide arc of movement, but no feathers come loose. He lets out a deep breath through his nose and focuses on the tiny bubbles in his smoothing instead.

No one seems much in the mood to talk this morning, at least not to Auston in any case. It’s a relief, but now he’s left alone with his thoughts. He resolves to delete his account to that forum, it was a dumb thing to do to begin with. He didn’t need some stranger telling him that Freddie is important, he could work that out alone. He can work out the rest of this alone as well. The feathers don’t have to mean anything at all.

It’s a relief to be back in Toronto if only for one home game. It’s been over two years but it still surprises Auston how quickly this place feels like home to him. His fridge is empty so he ends up going to the Marleau family home, another corner of Toronto that feels like home. They play mini sticks in the garage, Patty interjecting to make sure the boys don’t get too rough with him. Auston insists he would be fine, but he appreciates Patty is always going to look out for him.

After a loud and filling dinner, and the kids are all in bed Patty walks Auston back to his car.

“You alright, Matts?”

“Yeah, the shoulder just sucks.”

Patty hums sympathetically. “It was good having you on the road trip.”

“Yeah.”

“You seemed a bit distracted, though.”

Auston doesn’t know what to say to that.

“It’s not like you.”

“Just thinking about stuff, I guess.” Auston looks down.

Patty laughs at him. “Don’t hurt yourself doing that.”

“How do you figure out shit? Like real life shit?”

“It’s hard, but it helps if you have someone to talk to about it.” He says pointedly.

“It’s complicated.”

“I think you’re over complicating it.”

“ _You_ don’t even know what I’m talking about.” Auston gets defensive. Is he really that transparent? Did Mo say something to him?

“All I’m saying is you don’t have to _wing_ it on your own.”

Auston sends him a cold stare. Patty is unphased. He thinks carefully before his next sentence.

“So what would you say I do?”

“Tell him how you feel isn’t a bad start.”

“What if I don’t know how I feel?”

“Then tell him that too.” Patty makes it sound so obvious, like Auston hasn’t needed two pep talks from team mates to get him to this point.

“Sounds like a terrible idea.”

“Well shit, Auston, this stuff is never going to be easy but dont you don’t think this whole feather thing was meant to make it easy for you both?”

“It’s made it harder.”

“You made it harder.”

“Yeah, well, Freddie didn’t help.” Auston wonders if that is a lie. Objectively, Auston is the one who’s been acting out about this but Freddie hasn’t exactly been transparent either. Despite seeing into his memories Auston still doesn’t know what Freddie is thinking or feeling. Then again, Auston never asked.

“Tell him that too.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Whatever you feel like. Just be honest with him and make him be honest with you.”

“But what if I don’t want the truth?”

“You do, I know you do.” Patty grabs him on his good side. “You’re overthinking this. Freddie likes you and you like him.”

Auston flushes a little. Is he that obvious? Freddie’s just a nice guy, he’s easy to like. He’s kind and funny and surprisingly gentle for someone as big as he is. Auston isn’t blind either, he knows Freddie is handsome- and ok. Maybe Patty really does have a point.

“How? When?”

“Well, that’s all up to you but preferably before we lock you two in a gym closet.” Patty is smiling but Auston knows he’s serious. He also knows the rest of the team would eagerly agree to do that. Auston doesn’t mind working with a new deadline.

“Okay, jeez okay. Just let me figure out a game plan.” Auston mutters and has Patty laughing at him again.

“Well if you need help drawing up plays you know who to call.”

Auston promises not to take him up on that offer.

After the weekend off, the Leafs play against Columbus on Monday. They rally after a 2-0 deficit to take the win 4-2 and Freddie plays incredible. 37 saves and rightfully the first star of the game. Auston stays for a moment to watch Freddie take his small lap at center ice, stick up saluting the crowd.

He isn’t expecting it when one of the equipment guys finds him in the players’ lounge. Auston follows them when they ask and is lead back to one of the equipment rooms. Babs is already there and Auston’s confusion only grows.

“We found this in the crease after the game,” Babs nods towards the table. Next to the blade sharpener is a feather. It’s the biggest on Auston has ever seen. The golden-red colour leaves no question as to whom it belongs to.

“Fred has already left, so we thought you might be able to handle this?”

“Yeah, sure.” Auston swallows. “I’ll sort it out."

Babcock leaves him alone in the room as Auston inspects the feather at arm’s length. He’s hesitant but again his curiosity cannot be sated. He reaches forward and touches it.

This memory feels different. It’s not just one memory this time, it flicks through like a slideshow and Auston struggles to grab onto a particular image. It’s a little sickening watching the memories flash by so quickly but Auston tries to slow himself down and focus. It also takes him a second to realise who Freddie is looking at in the memories before he realises it’s him. It’s Auston in each one.

He’s looking through Freddie’s eyes in a moment from last year, inspecting the progress of his playoff beard. “Whad’ya think Freds?” He asks, watching himself scratch at his stubble.

Then the next memory pushes through, it’s him kneeling next to Freddie in their warm up ritual. It’s a home game, Auston can’t pinpoint which one. He can hear himself talking but the words are muffled. Freddie is watching him and nodding along, stickhandling a puck through the gap between Auston’s legs.

He blinks and he’s gone from the ice, now standing in a dimly lit and overcrowded living room. Music is thumping through the walls, strangling the sounds of loud and boisterous conversation. Auston looks down at the drink in Freddie’s hand before he starts scanning the room. There he is, dancing in the middle of the room and undoubtedly drunk. Auston’s moves are erratic and embarrassing in the way he only knows how to dance, but he can hear Freddie laughing. Not laughing at him exactly, but enjoying the show.

The next few memories zip past him a few seconds at a time. There’s hands around a takeaway coffee cup. A long stretch of blue ocean broken by Auston diving under a wave. A white bandana. A half eaten plate of sushi. Grey sweatpants. Balls of stick tape stuck to the carpet. A set of hands struggling to hold four pucks. The last thing he sees is a lion tattoo curled around a bicep. 

Auston doesn’t call to tell Freddie he’s coming over, he doesn’t want to risk Freddie telling him no. If Freddie’s not home, he’ll wait. If Freddie doesn’t want to talk, he’ll wait. If he can just see Freddie for a second he knows he has a better chance of convincing him. He buzzes Freddie’s intercom, and there’s a tense moment where Auston thinks he won’t answer.

“Hello?” Finally, Freddie’s soft grainy voice crackles through the speaker.

“It’s me. Can we talk?”

“Sure.”

There’s a click and a beep that let’s Auston through the door and he rushes his way to Freddie’s floor. There’s no going back now. He grips the feather in his hand for comfort, soft barbs tickle his palm. When he knocks on the door, there’s hardly a pause before Freddie opens. Auston lets out a breath he’d been holding.

Freddie looks him up and down, the hard crease of concern etched into his brow. Auston must look a mess. Hair still wet and clinging to his forehead, suit ruffled, face flushed and hands shaking. He moves aside to let Auston through the doorway.

“You want a drink?”

“No.” His first thought was yes, but he needs to do this sober. He doesn’t want Freddie to think this isn’t sincere. “I’m sorry to just drop in like this, but I need to say something.”

Freddie leans up against the wall and nods. He’s already out of his suit and in sweatpants and an soft charcoal shirt.

“This is hard for me.” Auston says slowly because he can feel his throat constricting again and he doesn’t need this right now.

“It’s okay, take your time.” Freddie’s words are soothing. He believes those words, he trusts those words. He steadies himself and wonders if he should have written this down first.

“Maybe I should just show you.” He pulls his hand from his pocket and takes out the feather.

Freddie looks between his face and the feather and says “That bad, huh?”

“No, it’s a good memory. I hope.”

“You hope?”

“What makes you happy?”

“Lots of things,” Freddie smiles and Auston realises that two are playing this game. Maybe Freddie doesn’t know how to say it either.

“Am I one of them?” Auston says because he can’t dance around this anymore.

Freddie looks away. Auston pushes the feather into his hand and holds it there. He watches Freddie’s face for the duration of the memory as something flashes behind his eyes and the feather fades from between their palms.

“Auston,” Freddie is shaky, Auston has never seen him like that. His eyes are shining.

“Freddie, am I one of them?”

“I want you to be.”

“I want to be, too.”

“I want you,” Freddie holds him gently by the shoulders. Somehow Auston finds his arms around Freddie’s waist. He can see it happen in slow motion, like the moment the puck hits the net but before the horn sounds. Freddie leans in and Auston closes his eyes and tilts his head to meet him.

Freddie kisses him hard and frantic, one hand sliding up to cup his face. Auston kisses back until Freddie parts his lips in a shuddering gasp. Through the thin material of Freddie’s shirt he can feel the warmed skin in boney dip of his spine. It feels like nothing compared to the wet heat of Freddie’s mouth. When they pull back for air, his thumb traces Auston’s cheek bone.

Freddie looks at Auston through a series of slow blinks before his eyes drift beyond his shoulder. His mouth then drops open.

“Holy shit.”

“Huh?” Auston twists around in Freddie’s arms trying to figure out what he’s looking at.

“Auston. Your wings.”

“What? You can see them?”

Freddie’s face cracks open into a smile as he nods. Auston looks around again only seeing the hallway to Freddie’s living room. It’s crazy, but maybe those forums were right. Maybe Freddie is his...Auston still can’t bring himself to say it yet.

“What do they look like?”

“Maybe like a hawk or something. They’re brown and white, and they’re perfect.” He’s looking at Auston’s face again with this tenderness that makes him want to burst.

“Whatever you say, Fred.” And he brings him in for another kiss. 

He wakes up to his alarm the next morning. He rolls over, not in his own bed and definitely not alone. Freddie is stretched out next to him and already awake. He smiles and shuffles closer to whisper a gentle good morning in his ear. Auston groans back at him sleepily which only makes Freddie smile wider. Yeah, he could get used to that smile.

He should be getting up soon, but he’s just so warm in here. He’s moments away from closing his eyes again when Freddie nudges him to roll onto his back so he can lean over him. He balances a forearm on each side and leans down to kiss Auston chastely on the lips. Auston leans into it, fighting back a smile. Freddie’s lips are dry and they both have a bit of morning breath but Auston couldn’t care less. He reaches up to lay a palm on Freddie’s bare chest and travels up to his clavicle, then his shoulder.

He feels the nubs of Freddie’s spine on his way up his neck until he reaches Freddie’s hair. Just quietly, he’s always had a thing for redheads. Freddie’s bed head is so fluffy and soft, he can’t help running his hands through it. Freddie breaks the kiss when he begins to scratch at his scalp. He arches back into Auston’s hand and purrs a little, which makes Auston laugh.

Auston didn’t think Freddie could look so beautiful as he does right now; eyelashes fluttering, cheeks pink from the warmth of sleep, and his wings curled out like a feathery halo behind his head. Auston pulls Freddie in until their noses nuzzle together.

“Shower? Or breakfast first?” As he speaks, his breath puffs against Auston’s cheek.

He is hungry but he’s not going to turn down a hot shower, especially if it includes a hot Dane too. Freddie gets up to start the water running which gives Auston a chance to look through his phone for a minute. He has a text from Mo offering to carpool to video review this morning.

 _I’m good,_ Auston replies. _I’m at Freddie’s_

_At 7am??_

_…_

_MATTY YOU SLY DOG!!_

Mo is texting him strings of winky faces and sparkling hearts. He puts his phone down before the eggplant emojis start.

For the first time he wonders what his teammates will say when they get around to telling them. He’ll talk to Freddie first, but he doesn’t think he can keep this a secret for too long. He doesn’t want to pretend around the team. He knows some of them might have questions, but he’s not afraid to answer them. He also knows they’ll be a lot of gloating on Mo and Patty’s behalf, but he can handle that. He hasn’t even mentioned the soulmates thing to Freddie yet, he needs to figure that out too at some point. As he watches the tips of Freddie’s wings peak out of the doorway and hit a stray beam of light Auston decides there will be time for that a little later. Right now he’s happy with Freddie and that’s all he cares about. 

  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure none of this makes sense but sometimes you reach the point in your life where you say fuck it and write what ever the fuck you want. so. have this. If it is mostly incoherent you have my apologies.
> 
> In my head Auston's wings were probably a white or red tailed hawk and Freddie's were an extinct species of vulture, Argentavis or something along that lines. Look it up, those guys were huge. 
> 
> Also if the spacing isn't right or it's annoying u please lmk! I'm posting this and I can't tell if the spacing is ok on mobile.


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